


Unspoken

by mustangsgloves



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I can't believe this is over 5000 words long, Just Straight Up Fluff, Post Promised Day, Wow, and a trope, mostly - Freeform, some 'angst' but, that's a first :')
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9589403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustangsgloves/pseuds/mustangsgloves
Summary: In a mission that is lining up to the weirdest one he's ever been on, Roy Mustang tries to keep some sense of professionalism - but that's shaping up to be more and more difficult as the hotel reservation for him and his Captain seems to have been switched up...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the-flame-and-hawks-eye](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the-flame-and-hawks-eye).



> This is a giftfic for the lovely @the-flame-and-hawks-eye on tumblr. I hope you enjoy my attempt at fulfilling your favorite trope!

“Are you _kidding_ me,” Roy grumbles, tightening his grasp on his small bag as he stomps his snow-packed boots on the porch of the building.  “Of course Grumman sends us to the most remote town, in the dead of winter, splits up our team, and gets us reservations in what _has_ to be the absolute _filthiest_ looking place I’ve ever seen.”

“Relax, sir,” Riza responds.  She flexes her frozen hands to try to regain feeling in her numb fingertips as she switches her bag from left to right.  “You’ve seen the rest of this town; the entire place just doesn’t have a lot of money.  I’m sure the inside is nicer.”

“Whatever you say, Captain,” he retorts.  Riza sighs at his snarky-tone, but doesn’t challenge him, knowing that the last thing that she needed was to argue with her superior officer when they were both cold, hungry, and exhausted.

Riza follows as Roy enters the small hotel, and the door creaks shut behind them with a resounding _thud_.  Roy blinks as his eyes adjust to the dimly lit, and decidedly decrepit, lobby.

“Evenin’,” a gruff voice rumbles.  “Can I help ye?”

“Yes, please,” Riza replies civilly, despite the man’s less-than-warm tone.  “We have a reservation under Grumman.”

The man grumbles under his breath as he flips through a stack of cream-colored cards by the landline.  After a minute, he turns back to Roy and Riza.

“The room you reserved is 205,” he grunts.  “S’got a bed and a bathroom.”

Roy watches Riza as she frowns slightly, “ _room_ 205?”

“Room 205, bed and bath,” the man, Johnson – Roy reads on his nametag – replies.

Roy’s own eyebrows knit together in confusion.  “I’m sorry?”

“Can ye hear?” Johnson growls, “ya get room, 205, and is’got a single twin bed.  Is there an issue, mister?”

“Respectfully, Mr. Johnson,” Riza replies, her face the perfect image of patience.  “Our reservation is for two joined rooms, each with a twin –”

“Well ‘m afraid yer straight outter luck,” Johnson says with a sickly-sweet smile.  “your reservation is for one room, one bed.  And before ye ask, I have no other vacancies.”

Roy finds that hard to believe given the decrepit status of the ‘hotel,’ but he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Johnson gives Riza a lecherous once over, despite the fact that she remains completely covered in her countless layers, and smirks.  “But if that’s too much of an isser for ya, ye could stay with me instead of that loser,” he says, jabbing a finger in Roy’s direction.

Riza’s previously calm demeanor fades, and she fixes the disgusting man with a dangerous glare, her eyes filled with a sudden anger.

“Excuse me?” she says, with false politeness.  Roy’s own anger bubbles up alongside uneasy concern – Riza’s patience may appear to be never-ending to most, but he knows better.

Johnson grins, revealing a mouth full of uneven, yellowing teeth.  “Ditch Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Brooding over there and get with a _real_ man.”

Riza’s right index finger twitches – and, deciding that it’d probably be best if she doesn’t punch the man in the face, no matter _how_ appealing it may sound – Roy wraps an arm around Riza’s waist and pulls her gently towards him.  He sees a split-second of confusion flit across her features before she relaxes into his hold, even reaching down to wrap her right hand around his own where it rests on her waist.

Roy sends the man what seems to be an apologetic smile, but he knows that Riza can tell it’s grossly insincere.  “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood our relationship, Mr. Johnson.”  The way Roy says the title is almost mocking, and Riza bumps him slightly, a silent reminder him to keep his cool.

Roy clears his throat before continuing with the same smile.  “My wife and I were simply confused by the change, that’s all.  There’s no problem.  It will work out perfectly, the other couple that was supposed to come – our friend Jean and his wife Rebecca – they couldn’t make it.”

He sees a quick ghost of a smile cross Riza’s face as he says the words.  Tactic wise it makes sense, the more detailed the explanation, the more reasonable…

Roy fleeting thinks of how lucky it is that he and Riza both still have their gloves on (consequently hiding their tell-tale lack of rings) as Johnson frowns.

The man seems to accept Roy’s words.

But it doesn’t keep him from continuing to show his repulsive personality as he slides them the single room key across the counter.  Johnson looks to Riza, twitching his face in a way Roy assumes was meant to be a flirtatious wink.  “My offer still stands, little lady.”

Roy fights down a smile as he feels Riza squeeze his hand and tap her index finger quickly against his knuckles, an odd habit she’s had for years that remains a clear sign of her agitation.

Then she does something that he is in no way prepared for.  Quickly twisting her body to face him, she brings up her free hand to guide his face down towards hers, and promptly presses her lips against his.

Roy feels his eyes widen, then remembers that since they were “married,” kissing her shouldn’t startle him at all, and quickly responds with enthusiasm.

Even though her lips are chapped from the cold, as he’s sure his are, they are warm and surprisingly insistent.  Roy finally feels his body relax, only for Riza to pull back, face red and lips still parted.  She’s clearly startled, despite the fact that she had initiated the kiss, and looks slightly embarrassed, but he sees her swallow and place a smile on her face that could only be described as completely and utterly in love.

She snuggles herself back into his side, and turns back to Johnson, who looks thoroughly schooled.  “That won’t be necessary.  Goodnight.”

Riza grabs room key, tugs on Roy’s hand – subsequently breaking him out of his shocked state, as well as simultaneously prompting him to grab their bags – and drags him towards the set of rickety-looking stairs that lead to the floor above.

Neither of them speak until they are in front of 205, though Roy does fleetingly note that Riza has yet to let go of his hand.

She finally does when she slips the key into the lock and swings the door open.  When she speaks, it’s in the form of a quiet, “after you.”

Roy nods and acquiesces, silently entering the room.  Riza comes in after him and shuts the door.  He lets the bags drop.

Neither of them say a word.

The room was indeed meant for one occupant, indicated by its very limited floor space as well as a cramped looking bathroom, and perhaps the most problematic thing of all, a single twin-sized bed.

“You take the bed,” he says.  Riza gives him a look, but before she can retaliate, he continues, “that’s an order, Captain.”

She glares at him, before simply saying, “no.”

“Hawkeye please don’t start with this,” he replies, running a tired hand through his hair.

“I will ‘start this,’ General, because where the hell would you be sleeping?”  She gestures vaguely around them, patience clearly waning (most likely almost completely exhausted by the lovely Mr. Johnson below).  “There is not a single other area someone could sleep, not even the floor.  There’s barely enough room for us in here as is.”

“What about the bathtub?” Roy counters.  Riza shoots him a withering look.

“There is no bathtub,” she retorts.

“Fine, then we just share.”

“It’d be inappropriate, sir,” Riza replies.

“Inappropriate?” he exclaims, frustration ratcheting upwards.  “You just _kissed_ me, Hawkeye!  Sleeping in the same bed isn’t going to be any more inappropriate than that!”

Belatedly, Roy realizes the phrasing of what he’s said, but it’s too late.

Hawkeye visibly deflates from the challenging demeanor she’d been in seconds before, and looks at the ground.  “My apologies, General.

“Hawkeye I –” He cuts himself off.  _He what_ , exactly?  _Really and thoroughly enjoyed a kiss that he shouldn’t have_?  _Is becoming more and more convinced that he’s in love with his subordinate_?  He swallows, fighting down his plethora of disjointed thoughts from erupting into dangerous words.

There’s a silence again, and for once in all his time with Riza Hawkeye, it almost feels awkward.

“You use the shower first, sir,”” Riza says quietly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hawkeye,” Roy almost snaps back – awkwardness forgotten.  “You have fewer layers on than I do, and besides, my body is always warmer.”

He ignores the way her face flushes at that, and passes it off as her finally adjusting to the chill of the room.

“You shower, and then I will, and that’s an order.”

Riza sends him a scathing glare before relenting and grabbing her duffle and disappearing into the tiny bathroom.

As soon as he hears the rush of water from within the closed bathroom door, Roy plops down onto the decidedly cramped bed with a low sigh.  _This_ , he thinks, _has got to be the weirdest mission ever_.

He runs a hand through his hair as he tries in vain to forget the feeling of Riza’s chapped lips pressing firmly on his own, and groans as he fails and he only thinks instead of her endearing quirk when angry or worried.

He swears he can still feel a ghost _tap-tap-tap_ on his knuckles from where her right index finger – her trigger finger – had been drumming against only minutes before.  He tries not to think about the way she had fit into his side so seamlessly, and the way a blush had briefly painted her face as he had called her his wife.

 _His wife_ …

Shaking his head to try to clear the increasingly dangerous thoughts, Roy stands, and walks over to rummage through his small pack for something to sleep in.

He hears the faucet squeak off, and bites back a groan as he realizes that his one other t-shirt had been soaked through by the incessant snowstorm that raged outside.  He grabs his thankfully dry pajama bottoms, and his last remaining pair of boxers, and sits back on the bed.

It’s only a minute before Riza opens the door and emerges in a comforting shroud of warm steam.  Her hair is down, dripping wet, and she doesn’t quite meet his eyes.  He’s about to ask her what’s wrong when he swallows hard, noticing suddenly – and very unpreparedly – that she is only wrapped in her towel.

All at once his entire body feels too hot, the air too stuffy, despite the drafty walls of the room.

“My pajamas seem to have been soaked through, sir…” she starts, trailing off uncertainly.

Roy regains his bearings and nods.  _Get a hold of yourself, Roy,_ he chides silently.

“You can borrow one of my shirts, Lieutenant,” he says, feeling his face begin to burn.  “I’m afraid I don’t have any dry pants, but a dress shirt should fit you…”

He pauses.

“Oh – actually, you can use my pajama pants if you’d like, I – uh, have a, uh…” he doesn’t continue and instead gestures awkwardly to the pair of boxers he’s still holding in his right hand.

He watches Riza’s gaze follow the movement, and her face promptly flush a deep scarlet.

 _Damn,_ he thinks silently.  _And here I thought we were adults_ …

“I, uh… I appreciate the offer, sir,” she manages.  “Thank you.  However, I’m sure the shirt will do just fine.”

Roy simply nods, and turns to rummage once again through his bag for the one dress-shirt that remained untouched.  He doesn’t meet his subordinate’s eyes as he hands her the blue fabric, but that doesn’t stop him from biting the inside of his lip as their hands meet briefly in the exchange.  He doesn’t miss the way they both jump apart, as if there’s a static buzz – which, Roy really wouldn’t be surprised if there was a physical bolt of energy, because that’s sure what it felt like.

“I’ll just go shower, then,” he mutters, walking past Riza to enter the cramped bathroom.

He shuts the door without looking back.

* * *

Riza sighs as she buttons up Roy’s shirt.  The way the cold piece of clothing hangs on her – almost like a dress – is somewhat comical, but Riza isn’t laughing.  Inside, she cannot seem to shut off the constant monologue of, “this is inappropriate… _wildly_ inappropriate...”

She tells herself that her shivering is because of the cold, not the fact that she is wearing nothing but _his_ shirt and her underwear.  But she knows, despite herself, that she’s not telling the entire truth.

Standing, she shuts off the overhead light and flicks on the bedside lamp instead.  In two steps, she crosses to the door and checks the lock – sliding the manual lock as well for good measure.

Sure, the town had seemed alright, nothing shabbier than some of the suburbs outside of East City, but the last thing they needed was their belongings stolen… or, if she was being more honest, for someone who knew they weren’t married to come and see them.

Riza shudders at the thought.  Just the fact alone that they were sharing a room could get them court-martialed… But pair that with sharing a bed, while being less-than-decently dressed… Not to mention the kiss from earlier… _Oh_ _god_ , that kiss.

Riza sits at the edge of the bed and tries to calm herself as she feels her heart speed up.

What exactly has she done?

* * *

 

Roy braces his hands on the tiny counter, gazing at his own frown in the mirror.  Thankfully, the pajama pants are much fuzzier than he was anticipating – a welcome surprise, unlike many of the other situations today.

His chest is painfully bare – his sleep shirt had been soaked through – and he can’t quite bring himself to exit the warmth of the steam…or see Riza.

But it’s been ten minutes, and he can’t hide in here forever.

Roy runs the piece of cloth that is supposed to pass as a towel over his damp hair.  Inhaling, he places his hand on the door handle.

 _Get a grip,_ he berates himself.  _You are being completely childish_ …

 _Reasonably so,_ some stupid, unnecessary voice retorts.  _She did kiss you – of course you’re freaked out_ …

“I’m not _freaked_ _out_ ,” Roy mutters.  He sighs heavily as he realizes that he just had an entire conversation with himself over may be one of the stupidest reasons ever.  _Damn…_

He opens the door…

And abruptly stops.

The clouds responsible for the snow swirling outside allow little light to enter the room through the small window.  In fact, the only thing preventing the entire room from being in complete darkness was the lamp on the bedside table.

But that’s not what makes Roy pause.

A soft glow illuminates Riza’s still-drying hair, causing a golden hue to fall across the rest of her body as she sat on the edge of the bed.  Her back is to him, and her hands run through her long hair, absentmindedly braiding it as she gazes out past the limp curtain that she had seemingly dragged aside.

Despite the darkness, there’s a dark purple hue to the sky, and the ledge outside has a small, but growing, loft of snow on top of it.  It’s quite peaceful, really, and extremely at odds with his thumping heart.

The golden aura extends down to the rest of her body, emanating from the shirt she wears ( _his_ shirt, too big, but fitting nonetheless), and down towards her legs.  He tries to distract himself before his thoughts linger back to the kiss…

So, being the idiot he is, Roy clears his throat.

Riza jumps slightly at the sound, and turns sharply to face him.  He can clearly see her posture relax, even if just slightly, as she registers it’s just him.

It appears that this is one of the _very_ few instances in which he had successfully – even if accidentally – snuck up on Riza Hawkeye.

He tries not to think about the fact that somehow she had been so caught up in her own mind (about what, he could only speculate, but he tries to ignore the rising suspicion that it’s maybe some not too different from his own) that he was able to surprise her.  The infallible Riza Hawkeye, startled by him simply stepping into a room.  It’s something that he could definitely let go to his head, but he doesn’t.

Instead he asks, “are you warm enough?”

She hesitates briefly before nodding, “yes, sir.”

He frowns.  “Hawkeye please.  We may as well be outside right now.  These walls are doing nothing to keep out the chill.”

“Right.”  Riza straightens, pulls back the thin-looking blanket, and slips underneath it.  She faces the window, subsequently turning her back to the door, and him.

Almost a minute passes before she realizes he has yet to move.  She looks over her shoulder, quirking one eyebrow in a silent question.

He clears his throat, “right, sorry.”  He shifts his weight from left to right and nods awkwardly.

He knows, rationally, that this isn’t a big deal.  He _knows_ that he shouldn’t be overreacting, but he can’t help it.  For so long he has fought back against Grumman whenever the old man mentions his granddaughter and ‘hints’ about her “being the future Fuhrer’s wife.”  Whenever Hughes would call on the phone, or drop a line about Roy “getting himself a wife,” Roy’s frustration would bubble up and he’d snap at his friend.

But this _is_ a big deal.  Not because he thinks anything more than strictly getting some rest – even though it happens to be in the same bed – is going to happen, but because he’s rejected his own feelings for so long.  Feelings that, with the events of the past hour or so, had come back, relentlessly bubbling up to the surface of his mind.

Even before Riza became his subordinate, his adjutant, his left-hand, he had tried to navigate their relationship carefully as kids.  Her father hadn’t been the most incredible man ever, despite his genius, and Riza had lost her mother at a young age.  When a young teenaged boy had entered into her house, bursting with energy, curiosity, and a somewhat unrelenting enthusiasm, she hadn’t welcomed him with open arms.

Yes, Riza was polite, and respectful, but they hadn’t just immediately become friends.  It had taken weeks, hell, even _months_ , of understanding, respect, and patience.  Roy had worked hard to make it so Riza felt comfortable and open around him, comfortable and open _with_ him.

It had all been worth it, no question.  The years spent with her as his best friend had been some of the greatest of his entire life.  They’d become closer than either of them could have ever expected, and at some point, the friendship had given way to a more dangerous creature – one that reared its nervous head, _finally_ , just before Roy had had to leave for the Military Academy.  One with an unspoken understanding of _something more_.

A creature that, despite everything, was finally peeking out again tonight.  It seemed to Roy that that simple action of a kiss (sure, paired with everything they’d gone through before, their encounter with Lust, countless missions that could’ve, and sometimes did, go wrong, the Promised Day) had coaxed this creature back out, given it something more concrete than it had had (or been allowed to have) for what seemed like ages.

Roy had fought down these feelings – anything more than a professional respect – to the best of his abilities for _years_ , simply due to the fact that he felt that he didn’t deserve her.  Of course, Roy knows that despite all of his attempts, those exact same feelings, the ones more dangerous than professional respect, were clear to all of the men on his team.

How many times had Havoc given him that oddly knowing smile? Or whenever Fuery had a grin a bit too wide on his face during dangerous missions as he watched Roy and Riza interact, even something as simple as discussing strategies?  What about the countless times that Breda had just a faint ghost of a smile as Havoc whispered something to him while looking at Roy when the team was at Christmas’s bar, after Roy had finally convinced Riza to have just _one dance with him_?  What about Falman, ever-silent, stoic Falman, whose eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement whenever Riza gave Roy that look when he was complaining about paperwork in the office that would shut him up and get him working?

Even Fullmetal, who had teased and antagonized Roy with a passion as his subordinate, had shared a few quiet conversations with the rest of the team and Alphonse.  Was it not Edward himself who had (on multiple occasions, even) told Roy to just “live a little”?

Roy fight’s down a huff of amusement.  What would his team say now, seeing their two superior officers arguably “scantily-clad” in the same hotel room _and_ sharing the same bed?  No doubt something completely inappropriate if Havoc were there, and some sort of comment close to, “it’s about damn time,” from Edward.

He blinks, clearing the rush of thoughts from his head, and just stares at Riza.  Riza Hawkeye, the woman who, in spite of everything, was still by his side.  Roy feels his world tip just a little bit at that realization.

“Sir?” Riza asks.  Roy wonders how many times she’s tried to get his attention in the past minute.

“Hmmm?” He hums back, not quite trusting himself to verbally respond in fear of the uncontrollable waterfall of confessions that may come out instead.

“Are you going to go to sleep, or…” She trails off.

“Yeah.”  He still doesn’t move.

After a few moments, he sees a quick flash of frustration on Riza’s face before she sighs and says, “of for the love of –”

She scoots herself closer to the edge of the bed and throws back the covers to the space that remains open, for him.

“Just lay down.”

Roy forgets about everything he had just been debating and deliberating about in his head, and crosses the one step it takes to reach the small bed.  Before he can lose his confidence, he sits on the edge, still not looking to Riza, lays down on the cold sheets and pulls them over himself.

All at once he’s far too aware of the sound of Riza’s uneven breaths right beside him, and he feels what seems to be like a white-hot burn at every single point of contact between her body and his own.

Simultaneously they both mutter a quiet, “sorry,” and make to move away from the other – and barely stop in time to prevent falling off the abrupt edges that lead to the cold, hard, wooden floor.

Roy lets out a resigned sigh and turns to roll back to the middle of the bed…only to be met with Riza’s face just inches away.  He tries to speak, but his mouth just won’t form the words.  His heartbeat thumps uncomfortably – no, it’s oddly comfortable – and Roy watches as a blush crawls up Riza’s face, starting from beneath the collar of the shirt ( _his_ shirt), and covering her cheeks.

_Has that dusting of freckles along the bridge of her nose always been there?_

Roy can feel a warm puff of air on his face as she exhales, and his own breathing catches.

Neither of them speak for a moment, but then Roy feels Riza shiver slightly, and he realizes just how _cold_ the room really is.

So, once again, he opens his mouth and speaks without thinking.

“Are you cold?” His voice sounds too loud in the silence of the room.

“No,” Riza says quickly.  Their faces are still too close, but he wouldn’t need to be close to her to tell that she was lying.

“Captain, please,” he retorts.  “I can feel you shivering.”

Her blush deepens, and she almost looks ashamed.  “Fine,” she gives him a half-hearted glare, “yes, I am.”

“Okay,” he says.

Without giving it a second thought, he acts on his instinct and pulls her towards him.  One arm around her waist, and the other cradling the back of her head, he presses her gently to against his chest and moves his chin to rest on her hair.

She stiffens, briefly, and asks, “Colo – General… what are you doing?”

“Keeping you warm,” he says, feeling his face flush.  “Just…trust me?”

There’s a pause before her muffled response of, “okay.”

He’s suddenly very aware of the fact that his chest is completely bare, and that where Riza’s face lies, is significantly warmer than the rest of his torso.  He also remembers, as he pulls her barely closer (but still well within the realm of propriety, or as much as there could be given the current situation), that the feeling of cool, smooth, fabric between his fingers is, in fact, still his dress shirt.

They lay like that for a few minutes, wide awake, cold, slightly stiff from nerves, and far too hyper-aware of the other to relax…before Roy hears Riza sigh quietly.

And then - much like she did earlier when she pulled him to her and kissed him - she completely and thoroughly surprises him…by tangling her legs with his.

Roy fights down a surprised squeak, and takes a moment to process what just happened.

He leans back his head just slightly to gaze down at her face, and isn’t surprised to see it blushing deeply (he knows his own looks the same).  Her eyes flicks up to meet his for a split second before she closes her eyes and returns to resting her cheek against his chest.

“I, um…” for some reason he feels the need to speak, but can only stammer out in his shock.

“For warmth, sir,” she supplies.  There’s a long pause before she says, “just, trust me,” and presses herself impossibly closer to him.

This time, Roy doesn’t fight back his squeak of surprise, and feels Riza’s lips curve into a smirk against his chest.

He swallows, trying to calm his racing heart that lies just under her ear.  No need to let her know just how much his nerves had taken over.

“You know, Captain,” he says after his heart has slowed.  “If you wanted warmth, you could’ve just asked.”

He feels her release a huff of laughter, one that shakes them ever so slightly, before she responds.  “You are impossible, General.”

“Only with you,” he responds.  He realizes the tone of his words only after he says them, but this time, he doesn’t really care.

Riza doesn’t seem to catch the accidental…unprofessional implication…or at least doesn’t go to address it.

“Besides,” she says, picking up her previous train of thought.  “Given how long it took you to even get into bed, I’m sure I would’ve frozen by the time you actually got around to ‘warming me up.’”

He goes to look at her again, and this time Riza does the same, pulling her face away to look up fully at his.  They find themselves merely centimeters apart.

Roy searches her humor-filled amber gaze as he looks for words he’s pushed away for years.

Instead of some heartfelt confession, he says, “I’m sorry I put you on the spot by calling you my wife, earlier.”

There’s a flash of what looks like disappointment in her eyes before she smiles softly and shakes her head.

“No need to be sorry, sir,” she replies.  “You read the situation quite well…as always.”

He smiles at her compliment and hums.  They remain close, studying one another with caution before Riza continues.

“I’m sorry I…” She swallows, and turns her eyes away from his own.  “I’m sorry I kissed you, sir.  It was well out of bounds and I –”

“Don’t apologize, Hawkeye,” he interrupts, “it’s like you were saying, you read the situation quite well, and acted appropriately.”

Roy pauses.  “And besides…”  _Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t be stupid…_ He ignores the rational voice that pipes up and continues, “it was…nice.”

Her eyes snap back to his with surprise.

“With all due respect, sir…that’s entering into rather dangerous territory,” she says quietly.

“I’m a dangerous man,” he replies.  He can see her fight down an eyeroll.  “But in all seriousness, Captain, who can hear us?”

Riza seems to accept his words and sighs.  “I…”  She laughs softly.  “I guess you’re right.”

There’s a pause.

“And besides, I don’t disagree.”

Roy laughs and draws her to him, resting his chin, once again, atop her head.  He smiles as she relaxes and presses into him.  He can feel warmth spreading back into his body.

“Can you imagine if the team saw us right now?” He asks.

“Yes,” she replies.  “It’s not very fun for either of us.”

Roy snorts.

“Is Havoc making inappropriate comments?”

“Would you expect anything else?” She responds.

“Fair point,” he says.

Sure, they know that in all seriousness, nothing has changed, but it’s no secret that they are both aware of their team’s thoughts and opinions.  Give the men a few drinks and they become very forthright with what they think exists between their superior officers…

Even Edward, embarrassed, awkward, Edward hadn’t been afraid to call it out to them both individually on various separate occasions.

Apparently, Roy had been blind long before the Promised Day.

Thinking back to their time in the hospital, when Roy had become accustomed to simply listening to his subordinate’s even breaths, he lets out a sigh.  Following what had become routine then, he whispers, “goodnight, Hawkeye.”

He thinks she’s fallen asleep due to her lack of response before he hears a tired, “goodnight, Roy.”

A simple slipup – one, granted, he had scarcely heard since their childhood – but Roy feels some of his doubts from before fall away nevertheless.

Sure, things might remain unspoken, but that’s how they’ve always operated.

They didn’t need any extra words to communicate what they already knew.  And besides, Roy would never forget what Maes had once told him – actions speak louder…

So, keeping his best friend’s advice with him, Roy presses a soft kiss to Riza’s forehead as he drifts to sleep.

Maybe this mission wasn’t so bad after all.


End file.
